X Marks the Scot

by Kaitlyn Dunnett

  Pete cleared his throat. “The Canadian Chadwicks may have been dull, but they obviously lived well. Where did the money come from? Are you sure they weren’t secretly supplying Canadian booze to their American cousins during Prohibition?”

  “Even if they did,” Sherri said, “there doesn’t seem to be any connection to the map Liss found.”

  “Why are you assuming someone is after that map?” Pete asked.

  “Because we don’t have any better explanation for the alleged break-in,” Liss answered before Sherri could. “Go ahead and say it. I imagined the whole thing.”

  “The intruder in the Emporium? Maybe. But there’s still a mystery surrounding the map.” Dan sent her an encouraging smile. “What does it show? Why was it hidden? That has to mean something.”

  Liss gathered up the papers spread across her lap and dumped them on the floor, all but the map she’d found. Then, from her perch on the sofa, she addressed the others. “There are no similar landmarks in the map of the Chadwick property in Nova Scotia but they must match someplace. Any ideas?”

  Pete consulted his copy of the map. “Odds are good that this is somewhere on the Chadwick property off Raglan Road. Ten Mile Stream runs through there, but . . .” He shook his head as his voice trailed off. “I can get hold of some topographical maps of the area, but it will be like looking for a needle in a haystack. What is that lot? Ten acres?”

  “Smaller. Closer to five,” Sherri said, “but it’s all heavily wooded. I wonder if we’re taking this too seriously. What if it’s only a game? A kid’s game. Why not? The last of the Chadwicks was a little girl. Maybe they threw her a birthday party and a treasure hunt was part of it. I’ll have to remember that when Amber’s next birthday rolls around.”

  Liss considered the idea and rejected it, but that led to a new line of thought. “I wonder if there’s any way to have the map tested to find out how old it is. It looks like it’s been around for at least a century, but what if it’s a lot older? There were smugglers in Maine long before Prohibition. Pirates, too.”

  “Or it could just look old.” Pete’s suggestion put a damper on her enthusiasm.

  “How can we find out? Are there tests to tell if paper is modern or not?”

  “There are, but they can get pricey.”

  Liss reminded herself that she didn’t have a pressing reason to pursue the mystery of where X was located. Even if her own family had been involved, she’d have a hard time justifying a major outlay of cash to have the paper in the map analyzed. On the other hand, she hated to leave any stone unturned. When Pete and Sherri started to make noises about leaving, she came to a decision. She sent Pete home with a corner of the original map and instructions to see what he could find out about it without breaking the bank.

  Chapter Seven

  The next day, when Liss made her regular deposit at the bank, she also paid a visit to her safe-deposit box. She and Dan had rented it to hold birth and marriage certificates, deeds to property, and a few grotesque pieces of Victorian-era jewelry she’d inherited from a great-grandmother. In the cubicle, the box open on the small table provided for customers, she wondered why she kept them. She wouldn’t be caught dead wearing a mourning brooch that contained her great-grandfather’s hair. The onyx ring was equally off-putting. Neither they nor the necklaces, pocket watches, and stick pins were particularly valuable.

  Another decision for another day, she told herself, and retrieved the map from her tote. After placing it on top of the documents and jewelry boxes, she closed the lid. She wasn’t sure why she wanted it in a safe place, but she felt better once it was locked away.

  Back at work, out of sight was not out of mind. While Liss packaged mail and online orders for shipment, she had plenty of time to wonder whether they would be able to spot any of the same landmarks on her map and the topographical map Pete had promised to produce. When she took a break from her labors to pour herself a cup of coffee, she took out the copy she’d tucked into the pocket of her jeans and unfolded it.

  She relished sipping the hot, fragrant brew, even though it was eighty degrees outside and the shop had no air-conditioning. It had never seemed worthwhile to install it when the number of days of oppressively hot, humid weather could be counted on the fingers of one hand. Most of the time, open windows and a couple of fans were adequate to keep the air moving at this time of year.

  Bent over the sales counter, she studied the details on the hand-drawn map. They were as vague and unhelpful as ever—generic trees and water. There was a dearth of useful information. Still, it had to show a specific place. Otherwise, why bother to draw it, let alone conceal it behind a painting?

  The bell over the door jangled, putting an end to her speculations. Two women staying at The Spruces entered the shop, demanding Liss’s full attention. After that, she had a steady trickle of customers and what with one thing and another, she didn’t give the map another thought for the rest of the day.

  After closing, Liss walked the short distance home and let herself into the front hall. She stopped just inside the door, surprised that neither cat appeared to greet their source-of-all-food. Lumpkin and Glenora were almost always waiting to make sure that her first priority upon entering the house was to refresh the water in their bowls and open a can of cat food. She saw no sign of them on the stairs leading to the second floor nor in the living room to her right.

  She started toward the kitchen, straight ahead at the end of the short hallway, her mouth already open to call them. She snapped it shut again at a muffled thump from the direction of the dining room. A few more steps brought her close enough to see that the door into that room from the kitchen was closed. That was unusual enough to have her backtracking. She peered into the living room and stared in disbelief at the pocket doors that separated it from the dining room.

  They were closed too.

  Liss was positive they’d been open when she left for work that morning. They were always left open. Her vague sense that something was wrong solidified when she caught sight of Lumpkin hiding behind the sofa. He wasn’t easy to see. The carpet was a pale yellow shade close to the color of his fur. She looked around for Glenora and finally spotted her on the highest shelf of the built-in bookcase. Both cats were staring at the closed pocket doors.

  Liss fumbled in her tote for her cell phone as she backed toward the front door. Her hand was shaking as she turned the knob, but once on the porch, she hesitated and stared at the phone in her hand. She was going to feel like a damn fool if she called the police for help and it turned out to be her own husband in the dining room. On the other hand, she’d never seen Lumpkin and Glenora behave in such an odd way before. Something was definitely off-kilter.

  Her finger wavered between speed dial numbers. Sherri’s office? Or Dan’s cell phone? Maybe both. Concern for her husband won out. As she stepped off the porch, heading for the police department, she called her husband. He answered on the first ring, before she was halfway across the street.

  “Are you in the shop?” she asked.

  “Just about to call it a day.” His cheerful voice reassured her as nothing else could have.

  “Stay put. I’ll be there in a second.” Abruptly, she changed direction and sprinted up the driveway that led straight to the workshop. It took all her willpower not to look toward the dining room windows as she passed them. If someone was in there and saw her, she didn’t want to alert him to the fact that she was onto him.

  Dan already had the workshop door open. His face was a mask of concern. “What’s wrong?”

  “There’s someone in the house.”

  He took a step toward the back door but stopped when she caught his arm.

  “What if he’s armed?”

  “He? Did you see someone?”

  Liss shook her head. “I heard a noise. And the cats are acting strange.” Listening to her own words, she realized how foolish they sounded, but her conviction that someone was in the house did not waver. “I heard a thump
from the dining room and both the door from the kitchen and the pocket doors are closed. Unless you—?”

  Dan’s frown deepened. “They were open when I made myself lunch.”

  * * *

  Liss and Dan stayed where they were until Sherri responded to Liss’s phone call. She brought Officer Mike Jennings with her. He went in the front door while Sherri took the back. Five endless minutes passed, during which Liss clung to Dan’s hand so tightly that her fingers went numb.

  “Clear,” Sherri announced. “No one is in your dining room. No one is anywhere in the house.”

  Liss didn’t know whether to be relieved or dismayed. As had been the case at the Emporium the previous day, it appeared that there was no evidence to back up her suspicion. Together, she and Dan checked every room. Nothing was out of place. Nothing seemed to be missing.

  “Someone was in the dining room,” she insisted when they rejoined Sherri. “That same someone was probably all over the house. And the only reason I can think of, since the intruder didn’t steal anything, is that he was looking for the map.”

  “That’s a bit of a leap,” Sherri said.

  “Do you have a better suggestion?” Dan asked her.

  Sherri didn’t need to say anything. Liss could tell what she was thinking.

  “It’s not all in my head!”

  “I didn’t say it was.” Sherri stood, hands on hips, in the middle of Liss’s living room. She huffed out an impatient breath. “Liss, I get that you’d like to find the treasure. I’d like to solve that mystery myself. But you need to consider the possibility that you may be just a tad obsessed with that map.”

  “I know that!” Liss snapped. “And I know that the odds are against there being any connection between the map and the burglary in Antigonish. And I don’t really suppose anyone followed me back home from Canada just to try to steal it. But you didn’t see the way the cats were acting. Plus, I heard an intruder.”

  “What, exactly, did you hear?”

  “A thump.”

  “The cats—”

  “The cats were here in the living room.”

  “The house was locked, right?”

  “Well . . .”

  “We don’t lock up during the day,” Dan cut in. “Nobody does.”

  “So someone could have gotten in,” Liss said.

  Sherri rolled her eyes. “Nothing was out of place in the dining room. Nothing is missing. Maybe the thump came from outside. A bird may have hit a window. It happens.”

  “Someone was in there,” Liss insisted. “He bumped into something, or knocked it over, but he put it back the way it was so we wouldn’t notice. I did not imagine that sound.”

  Sherri rubbed one hand over the back of her neck, as if she had the beginnings of a tension headache. “I’ll write up a report. We’ll continue to keep an eye on all the buildings around the town square. Meanwhile, why don’t you take some simple precautions. Lock your doors, even in the daytime.”

  “Okay. Thanks.” Liss managed not to sound grudging. It wasn’t Sherri’s fault that she hadn’t heard that thump for herself. Of course she had doubts.

  Her friend’s expression softened. “I wish I could do more, but without evidence, my hands are tied.”

  As soon as she left, Dan headed for the kitchen and started pulling out pots and pans. “I’ll make supper. You’ve had a rough day.”

  “You believe me, don’t you?”

  “Of course I do. I’m just not sure that someone being in the house is connected to the map. Maybe Zara came over from next door to borrow a cup of sugar.”

  “Any of our friends would have stopped in at the workshop or at the Emporium or given one of us a call first. They wouldn’t just barge into the house when no one was here. And they would not close the pocket doors. And the cats—”

  “Okay. Okay. I agree.” He already had water boiling for pasta.

  Liss fished a half-full jar of spaghetti sauce and a slab of leftover meatloaf out of the refrigerator. Fifteen minutes later, square “meatballs” were simmering in sauce in the microwave and Dan was getting ready to drain the noodles. A few slices of Italian bread and a bottle of wine completed the simple meal.

  Considerably calmer after she had something in her stomach, Liss contemplated the possibility that Sherri was right. She could be letting her admittedly active imagination run away with her. Her life would be much simpler if she could convince herself that was the case.

  Then the phone rang. Dan answered and listened in silence for a few minutes. When he hung up, his expression resembled the proverbial thundercloud.

  “What’s wrong?” Liss asked.

  “That was Sherri. She just talked to Sergeant Childs. It seems the Mounties didn’t get their man, after all. The guy who confessed made the whole thing up to get a roof over his head and three square meals a day. They have no idea who killed Orson Bailey, or why. For all we know, it could be connected to that damn map.”

  * * *

  “Thanks for coming in,” Sherri said the next morning. “Is Beth minding the store?”

  Liss acknowledged that she was and settled into one of the hard plastic visitor’s chairs. She folded her hands in her lap and waited.

  “Things have been slow in Moosetookalook this summer,” Sherri said. “Aside from a few minor traffic accidents, the occasional drunk and disorderly, and that fistfight at the pizza parlor two weeks ago, it’s been pretty quiet. I’d like to keep it that way.”

  Liss felt herself tense. “It isn’t as if I want my theory about everything being connected to the map to pan out.”

  Sherri eyed Liss’s shoulders. “Relax, will you. You’re as rigid as a two-by-four. I’m not about to bring out the rubber hoses.” She left her comfortable desk chair, bringing a notepad and pen with her, and resettled herself in the other plastic horror.

  “I’m fine.”

  “You’re not fine. You’re skittish as a colt and I’m pretty sure I can guess why. Now that you’re aware that the police in Canada don’t have Bailey’s murderer in custody, you’re more convinced than ever that all the odd things that have happened to you are linked.”

  “It’s possible. The killer is still on the loose. Maybe—”

  “And maybe not. That’s what I want to talk to you about. I want you to go back to the beginning and tell me everything.”

  “You mean finding the body?” Liss repressed a shudder. “To be honest, I’d just as soon not relive that moment.”

  “If your instincts are on the money, this started at the auction. I was there, too, but I want to hear your recollections. For starters, you weren’t the only one bidding on that portrait. Who were the others?”

  Liss reached back in her memory and conjured up a dark-haired man and a stocky older woman. She described them to Sherri. “I don’t know their names. The dark-haired man bought several other pictures. I saw him with them after the auction. I thought at the time that he must have been after the frames because they were nice, old, hand-carved wooden ones.”

  Something else niggled at the back of her mind, bringing a frown to her face.

  “What?” Sherri paused with the pen poised over the pad.

  “It’s probably nothing.”

  “Let me decide that. You know it’s the little details that make a difference in an investigation.”

  “It was when we were in Truro. Margaret and I came out of the shop where we’d been talking to a man about kilts and I nearly collided with a passerby. For just a second I had the strongest impression that I knew him, and a bit later I decided it was because he’d looked a lot like the dark-haired man at the auction. I was sure it was just a chance resemblance. What would he have been doing in Nova Scotia?”

  “You say this guy looked a lot like him.” Sherri leaned closer, intent on Liss’s answer. “Could it have been the same man?”

  “The whole encounter was over in a split second. All I got was an impression. The dark hair and the height were right, but I never got a goo
d look at his face.”

  Sherri sat back and scribbled a note to herself. “I’ll see if I can find out who he is. Since he bought things at the auction, there should be a record of his name and address.”

  “The auctioneer was from away,” Liss reminded her. “Maybe even out of state.”

  “It doesn’t matter. The auction itself was held in my jurisdiction and that gives me leverage to persuade the new owner of the Chadwick mansion to hand over contact information.”

  “I don’t know much about the guy who bought the place besides his name. Brad Jardine, right?”

  Sherri nodded. “He wasn’t at the auction, but he must have raked in a pretty penny from selling the contents of that old house. What about the other bidder?”

  Liss shook her head. “I think she must have left before the end of the auction. I didn’t recognize her, either.”

  “Okay—moving on. We dropped the portrait when we were trying to load it into the cruiser, the frame broke, and you found the map hidden between the back of the canvas and the wooden backing. Can you remember if anyone else was nearby at the time? Could someone have seen you find it?”

  Liss squeezed her eyes shut and tried to recall the scene. She hadn’t been paying much attention to what was going on around them. “There were cars and trucks leaving the auction. People were walking to where they’d parked and loading up. I don’t remember anyone in particular, and if someone was watching us, I didn’t notice.”

  “You didn’t see anyone you knew?”

  Liss started to shake her head, then stopped in mid-movement. “There was a woman at the auction who might still have been there. She’s just a little bit of a thing—even shorter than you are. She bought that old steamer trunk full of papers and books. It was more than she could manage on her own and I was going to hunt up a dolly for her, but then a good Samaritan came along and helped her haul it to her van.”

  “And she was around when we dropped the portrait?”

  “She might have been. I’m not sure.”

  “Did you get her name?”